


Jambalaya

by the_genderman



Series: Semi-Canon Freebird-Verse [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Food, M/M, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Steve Rogers versus seasoned food
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 23:51:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11390997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman
Summary: Steve enjoys Sam's cooking, but sometimes it is abundantly clear that he is a white guy who grew up in the Great Depression with very little in the way of food seasoning.





	Jambalaya

"Mmm, that smells really good," Steve said, leaning over Sam's shoulder as Sam dished up two heaping plates of jambalaya. "What is it?"

"Jambalaya. My Great-Grandma's recipe, so it doesn't just smell really good, it _is_ really good," Sam replied. "You haven't had real jambalaya until you've had this."

"I don't think I've ever had _any_ jambalaya, so if it's as good as you say, then I'm gonna be spoiled for it anywhere else," Steve said, taking the plates from Sam and setting them on the table.

"Oh, you'd better believe it's as good as I say. No one disrespects Great-Grandma Wilson's jambalaya," Sam teased, tapping off the wooden spoon and covering the pot so the leftovers would stay warm. He joined Steve at the table.

Steve raised his glass in a toast. "To Great-Grandma Wilson."

Sam raised his glass and drank to Great-Grandma.

Steve scooped up a heaping forkful of jambalaya and promptly choked a little, trying valiantly to hide it.

"You ok there?" Sam asked.

"Yep, just fine," Steve wheezed and shoved another, smaller, forkful into his mouth.

Sam gave him an 'if you _say_ so' look and started in on his food.

"How was your day?" Sam asked after a couple minutes of silent eating. (Well, mostly silent. Steve had begun to sniffle a little.) "Any insider news about my Avengers application? You're the team leader right? Any chance you can speed up the process? I'd love to have my wings back."

Steve cleared his throat and sniffed before answering. "Uh, today was good. Real good. I haven't heard anything, but I can poke Tony about both of those things. Technically I am the Avengers' leader, but since all the salaries come out of Tony's very deep pockets, he's got a pretty big say in things like this." Steve coughed and continued as if nothing had happened. "I don't think it's anything personal, Tony's just really easily distracted. So, how was your day?"

"Not bad, but also nothing new to report on our missing persons case," Sam replied. "The last lead looks pretty dry. He definitely _was_ in Miami, but the trail went cold two weeks ago."

"Hm," Steve said, taking another bite of his dinner. His face had taken on a delicate shade of scarlet.

"You _sure_ you're ok there, Steve?" Sam asked.

Steve nodded vigorously, sniffing again and taking a swig of his water.

Sam continued eating, watching as Steve's water glass grew steadily emptier as his face grew steadily redder.

Steve stood up abruptly and excused himself from the table. He headed into the bathroom. Sam heard the soft shoof of a handful of Kleenex being hastily yanked out of the box, followed by Steve blowing his nose. He smiled and shook his head.

Steve returned to the table. "Sorry about that," he said and returned to his food.

Steve ate a little more slowly than he had at first. Sam finished his jambalaya and watched as Steve soldiered on, eyes watering a little.

"Would you like some milk? It can help if the food's too spicy," Sam asked innocently.

"Y'know what? Yes, please," Steve said, wiping his eyes with a clean corner of his napkin.

Sam brought the milk to the table, tacitly permitting Steve to drink straight from the carton for once. Steve looked gratefully at Sam as he drank.

"Ok, honest opinion, Steve. What did you think of your first experience with jambalaya?"

Steve inhaled deeply and promptly coughed again. He held up a hand in the universal gesture for 'give me a moment.'

"It was really good," he finally rasped out. Seeing the skeptical look on Sam's face, he added, "I mean it. It _was_ really good. Just, a little spicier than I'm used to."

"A _little_ spicier? One, you're bright red, Steve. If I put my Falcon goggles on, you wouldn't even change shades. Two, that was already less spicy than the recipe actually called for. Have you actually ever eaten a pepper before in your life?"

"Does a bell pepper count?"

"No, Steve, it does not."

"Does black pepper count?"

"Also no."

"There's some sort of peppers in guacamole, right?"

"Sort of?"

"Well, then yes, I have."

Sam sighed. He loved Steve, but the man was a mess. 

"If you're gonna come to my family's Thanksgiving dinner, you're gonna have to work on your spice tolerance, ok? If you embarrass me in front of my family, I _will_ banish you to the kids' table," Sam said, shaking his head a little.

"Hey, if everything you cook tastes as good as this jambalaya, then I will have no problem working on that," Steve grinned back. "It's a little painful, but it really does taste good, I promise."

**Author's Note:**

> This was partially inspired by real life. A friend and myself were at an Indian restaurant and the food was really good, but we are also Very White (TM) and accidentally ordered Indian medium spice level. The waiter seemed concerned about our reaction and asked us if we were ok. We were. The food was very tasty, but also kinda painful.


End file.
